


Of All the Women We Have Loved Before

by jkkitty



Series: Napoleon and Jo focus [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkkitty/pseuds/jkkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon reflects on the women in his life on a rainy night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of All the Women We Have Loved Before

Of All the Women We Have Loved Before

Napoleon Solo stood looking out his apartment window watching the rainfall. The gentle sounds lulled him into daydreaming about his life. He was truly satisfied with his current existence, a partner who was more than a brother, a job that he believed he was meant to do, and a woman he loved. He moved to his bedroom door and watched while that woman slept in his bed.

He couldn't believe that before he met her he had been with a different woman almost every night and thought back to their first meeting.

She stood at the window in Waverly office, looking out over the United Nations. Most of the women in UNCLE dressed in the uniform skirt and top, but she bucked the trend even then, dressing in in black slacks and turtleneck, covered by a ruby red suit jacket, and finished with low black boots. As she turned from the window, he knew then they were meant to be together.

Her large blue eyes hid a multitude of secrets and terrors within the iciness of their color and pale strawberry blonde of her hair created an unassuming but stunning beauty that she seemed unaware of. He didn't understand what power she had over him to cause him give up the playboy lifestyle that he believed that he was enjoying.

Oh, there were times that he still slept other women, usually when on assignment and of course he still flirted with every female he met, but when he was home, she was the only woman he wanted or needed.

Most of the others before her were usually one-night stands that would help fill his nights and forget the responsibilities and dangers of his life. Of course, there had been women that he frequented more often. Yet they were nothing like her. She seemed to encompass all their traits, yet was beyond them.

Angelique was an example. Illya disliked the woman intensely, until they seemed to come to an understanding once she had saved his partner's life. However, he still couldn't understand what Napoleon saw in her.

Napoleon knew that he and Angelique never had loved one another but there were times they simply needed each other. She was an enchantress with her platinum blonde hair, voluptuous charm that was both dangerous and exciting, especially when she was in bed with him. She was seductive with her movements and crooked smile.

He tried to remember how many times they had made love as well as the number of times she try to kill him, but lost count. Somehow the jeopardy he was in when he was with her seemed to push him on. One moment he would be wining and dining her and the next he would be fighting for his life.

Did he have a death wish when he was with her? He didn't think so but then why had he continued to see her other than at times then when they were working for their organizations.

Serena was another matter, she was so sophisticated and her beauty was exquisite. She had also tried to kill him more than once but only when Thrush had ordered it. As dangerous as Angelique was, Serena was more so because her treacherous nature was hidden and she gave the impression that she wouldn't hurt a fly.

Once again when not on assignment the comfort she offered induced him to chance romancing her.

As he thought of some of the other dangerous women he had slept with over the years, he wondered how come he was still alive.

As he began to turn away from his lover and love to head back to the window, she woke, holding out her hand to him calling softly.

"Come _moya lyubov_ , I miss you."

He smiled as he crawled under the covers with her. Sometimes it was still hard for him to believe that she wanted nothing more from him than his love and companionship. No other hidden agenda, no dangers or threats, she offered herself to him loving him for who he was not what he was.

She was his partner's sister and his friend and his love, Josephina Nichovia Kuryakin.


End file.
